


Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire

by lucylupin



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pre-Canon, canon-typical poor decision making, gratuitous references to country music, some explicit violence, toothpick bitchslap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22452607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylupin/pseuds/lucylupin
Summary: “Let’s go toBull’s Bar-B-Q.”Eddie tenses up, only for a moment, but the gesture doesn’t escape Vic’s attention. He knows him, he can tell there’s something up, so he follows Eddie out of the room and down the stairs and waits for his answer.“Nah, don’t feel like it,” Eddie says nonchalantly, “pick somewhere else.”Vic squints his eyes. What is Eddie trying to hide from him? Is there something,someoneat the bar he doesn’t want Vic to run into? “I wanna go to Bull’s.”“Well I don’t,” there’s a tang of irritation in Eddie’s voice as he puts on a flashy yellow and blue polyester jacket, “so let’s go someplace else.”
Relationships: Mr. Blonde/"Nice Guy" Eddie Cabot
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	Don't touch me, I'm a real live wire

**Author's Note:**

> so! here’s the Vic/Eddie nobody asked for, featuring a road bar, some country music and even a couple of punches! thanks to [@anticmiscellaney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/17603/pseuds/17603) for giving me great ideas and editing my awful typos. hope you all enjoy!
> 
> all the songs referenced are listed at the end

“Uhhh… I’m bored as shit,” Eddie lets the pool cue fall from his hands onto the table as he speaks, and Vic gives him a raised eyebrow. They’ve been shooting pool for a couple hours now, but he’s noticed Eddie’s attention drifting away from the game for the past thirty minutes.

“Let’s go someplace,” Eddie insists.

Vic props himself up and nods obligingly, “Okay,“ he looks up for a moment, musing, and remembers there’s a place he’s been meaning to visit. “Let’s go to _Bull’s Bar-B-Q_.”

Eddie tenses up, only for a moment, but the gesture doesn’t escape Vic’s attention. He knows him, he can tell there’s something up, so he follows Eddie out of the room and down the stairs and waits for his answer.

“Nah, don’t feel like it,” Eddie says nonchalantly, “pick somewhere else.”

Vic squints his eyes. What is Eddie trying to hide from him? Is there something, _someone_ at the bar he doesn’t want Vic to run into? “I wanna go to Bull’s.”

“Well I don’t,” there’s a tang of irritation in Eddie’s voice as he puts on a flashy yellow and blue polyester jacket, “so let’s go someplace else.”

Vic reaches to open the front door and smiles slowly, looking at Eddie with slightly raised eyebrows; he takes a bit of amusement in making Eddie nervous. And if there’s something he doesn’t want him to know about at the bar, then Vic’s going to find out.

“Well _I’m_ going to Bull’s,” he takes his car keys out of his pocket and walks out into the driveway toward his Cadillac, “You’re welcome to come if you want.”

He knows Eddie will follow, and sure enough, he huffs loudly behind him, making a show out of his sulking as he gets into the car, “Vic, you’re impossible.”

In the way over Eddie turns the radio’s dial one way and the other every two minutes, doesn’t let a single song end before he’s changing stations. Every time it looks like he’s finally picked something to listen, his arm shoots out and he’s at it again. Eventually, Vic clicks his tongue irritated and reaches across to slap Eddie’s hand away.

“Leave the fucking thing alone, you’re getting on my nerves,” he glances at Eddie, and tries again to get an answer, “What is up with you?”

“Well for starters I don’t wanna go to that stupid cowboy bar of yours.”

Vic takes a long drag off his cigarette, peers at Eddie before answering, “Why not?”

“I don’t fucking _feel_ like it,” Eddie drags the words out, like he’s trying to make a stubborn child come to reason. Vic doesn’t raise to the bait.

“Why not?”

“What the fuck does it matter why?” There’s a vein starting to swell in Eddie’s neck.

Vic shrugs indifferently, “Well _I_ wanna go because I haven’t been there since I left the can. Nobody’s forcing _you_ to come.”

Eddie throws up his arms out like that’s the most stupid thing he ever heard, “Oh, yes, I can just get out here in the middle of fucking nowhere and walk back home.”

“Just sayin’.”

They’re both dancing around the issue, pretending they don’t know there’s something Eddie’s not saying. Vic doesn’t push, just keeps driving until he sees the neon sign creep up behind some trees.

They pull up into a place on the side of the road with a big parking lot full of pick-up trucks and motorbikes. The blinking sign on the front displays the face of an angry bull with big red horns, along the name “BULL’S BAR-B-Q”. Vic parks the car and gets out, then comes around the back to open Eddie’s door with a grin. Eddie rolls his eyes, pouring sarcasm into every word as he speaks, “Who woulda thought, prison’s turn you into a real fucking gentleman.”

Vic ignores the acid in his voice as he follows him toward the door.

The room is crowded, dimly lit with fake orange kerosene lamps on the tables and neon signs on the wall with the names of beer brands. Gang bikers in leather vests mumble among each other in the dark corner tables, and men dressed in cowboy outfits take their girls out to dance on the open floor by one side, where a young man who’d made a great Waylon Jennings softly sings _…Someday when we meet up yonder, we’ll stroll hand in hand again…_ if some cowboys hug one another and start dancing together, nobody seems to notice.

As soon as they’re inside Vic notices Eddie’s attempt to be subtle about the way he’s giving the whole place a glance, stretching his neck and looking left and right. Vic sneaks closer in silence until he’s perching over his shoulder and whispers quietly on his ear, “See a table you like, Eddie?”

Eddie jumps startled and shoots back a glare at Vic, slowly blinking, “Do not fucking do that to me Toothpick.”

Vic can’t help a low chuckle as he settles a hand on Eddie’s neck and squeezes softly, “Why you so hot under the collar, huh?”

Eddie seems to be satisfied with his survey of the place, because he shrugs away, turns around and sits down on the first table that he finds available, immediately signaling for a waitress. They order beer and start drinking in silence, and soon he seems to unwind, losing his nervous edge, and they even manage to have a conversation about Waylon Jennings’ 70s transition from dapper genteel cowboy to scruffy, brash outlaw without barking at each other.

Vic is saying, “He peaked right after he changed his looks, nothing tops _Dreaming My Dreams_ ,” he starts singing quietly, “ _I’ve been a fool, I’ve been a fool, forgiving you each time that you’ve done me wrong…_ ”

Eddie makes a dismissive gesture, “Yeah, but what about _Ruby, Don’t Take Your Love To Town_? That’s a country classic.

“Yeah, but that Nashville sound shit is so impersonal, he was just doing what everybody else was doing. The other stuff is raw and unique, he’s singing about his struggles in life” he tries to take a swig of his beer before realizing it’s empty, “He looked hotter in the sixties, though… when he sang _Your love scares me to death girl, it’s the chokin’ kind…,_ ” he purrs, and gives Eddie a wink.

Just then the bar’s band wraps up a song, and after a brief applause the singer starts crooning and strumming his guitar, “ _The only two things in life that make it worth livin’…_ ”

Eddie chuckles, “Well, speaking of the devil.”

Eddie’s laughter and the stupid conversation makes Vic remember how much he missed having fun with him while he was in jail, and suddenly he doesn’t care too much about whatever crap he was hiding anymore; it was probably just Eddie’s usual bullshit, he must have been caught cheating at cards or something like that. And Vic’s been giving him shit all night for it. He looks up Eddie sideways, smiling smugly.

“Hey, you wanna dance?” he could swear he sees Eddie blushing a little, but maybe that’s just the beer.

“What am I, your girlfriend?” Eddie says with exaggerated offence, and Vic tilts his head and scratches his brow like he’s seriously considering the question. Eddie huffs, “Nah, you go.”

“Your loss,” Vic grins and stands up and moves toward the dance floor with swaggering steps.

Vic dances alone for the duration of half a song until a young redheaded girl in a denim skirt approaches him with a grin.

“Hey stranger, you wanna dance?” she has a chirpy voice and a soft southern accent. Vic offers her his hand and his most charming smile.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

She takes his hand and places the other on his shoulder, coming nearer but not quite touching him; Vic doesn’t close the distance but rests his arm around her waist when they start moving to the music.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Vic is a head taller than her, so he has to tilt down his head to look at her eyes.

“Is it obvious?” She’s the kind of girl that smiles with her whole face and voice, and she’s cute, too, but Vic doesn’t really care about it, he’s just dancing with her to make Eddie a bit jealous.

“I’m from Kentucky,“ she continues, "but I moved out here because I wanna be an actress.”

He shoots a glance at their table and can’t repress a smile; Eddie is looking at him with an angry expression, mindlessly turning one of his golden rings in his finger. Just as he wanted.

Vic turns his full attention to the girl again, “An actress, huh? How’s that working out for you?” If he’s gonna make Eddie jealous at least he’s gonna enjoy himself.

They dance around for a couple of songs, talking about the weather in Lexington and the traffic in LA, until Vic looks up again to watch Eddie. But he’s not looking back; instead, he’s sitting on the edge of his seat with a tense stance, looking at the man sitting by his side and trying to put as much distance as possible between them. Vic furrows his brows and lets go of the girls hands without peeling his eyes from the table.

“‘M sorry, sweetie, my friend’s calling me.” He doesn’t see the disappointed look on the girls face, but hears her voice as he walks away.

“Oh, well… okay, it was nice meeting ya’.”

He circles tables and shoves people out of his way with his eyes fixed on Eddie and his companion. He seems like a really big man even seated, bigger than Vic, with broad shoulders and hairy arms resting on top of the table. His cowboy hat keeps his face in the shadows so Vic hasn’t yet seen his face when he stands near the table, interrupting whatever the man was whispering to Eddie.

“I don’t think I know you.”

Eddie looks up alarmed, eyes wide and face twisted with something very close to fear. Vic squints his eyes, confused, and then he looks at the man for the first time. He’s got a broad face, with a dimple on the chin, high cheekbones and a perfectly straight, pointy nose; his eyes are dark as the curly strand of hair that falls from under the hat in the middle of his forehead. He is handsome, and that makes Vic’s gut squirm with anger.

The man chews on a gum slowly, giving Vic a disinterested look up and down before speaking up, "I don’t think I know _you_.”

Vic chuckles like he finds the answer remotely funny, but he won’t be intimidated by some rowdy rancher. The stranger keeps a straight face.

“I’ll rephrase…,” Vic says, “who the fuck are you?”

Now the man does laugh, a low chuckle as he swings his arm up and around Eddie, resting his hand on his shoulder. “I’m a friend of Eddie’s. Sal’s the name.”

Vic shoots up his brows in surprise at the friendly gesture. He wants to know exactly what the fuck is up with this guy and his eyes go to Eddie in search for an answer, but Eddie’s just standing still, paralyzed and shooting nervous glances between Vic and Sal.

Vic gives the guy a friendly smile now, “Well, _Sal_ , me and Eddie were having a good night, so why don’t you go fuck off,” he makes a swiping gesture with a hand and widens his grin.

“Vic-,” Eddie makes an attempt to intervene but Sal interrupts him.

“Nah, I don’t think I will,” The man reclines his chair back, balancing himself in the back legs with a smug grin on his face and looking like an absolute asshole, “You see, Eddie and I have been very good friends for… what, two years now?” Vic’s muscles tense listening to him, but he lets Sal continue speaking. “And I’ve never seen _you_ so I think you’re the one who should split.” He draws up his thumb from Eddie’s shoulder to stroke his face, which prompts a cringe from him.

"Don’t fucking touch me,” Eddie snarls.

“Now Eddie,” Sal clicks his tongue and uses a chastising tone, “you weren’t saying that the last time I saw you.”

And that does it for Vic, who falls down into a chair next to the man and with a smooth motion grabs him by the collar and gets really close. With his other hand he pulls up the leg of his jeans, trying to draw his blade out of his boot.

“Buddy, if you don’t let go of him right now I will-” he feels a sharp pressure on his stomach and recognizes the shape of a gun’s barrel. His reacts with a surprised laughter, but even he can tell when the odds are really tipping against him, so he opens his left hand to let go of the cuff oh his pants..

“C'mon pal, I don’t think there’s anything that interesting down your boot. Hands where I can see ‘em.”

Vic clicks his tongue and obliges, releasing his collar and drawing up both palms slowly over the table. Sal takes the opportunity to bring Eddie closer and stand up, forcing the other man to get up with him. Vic doesn’t miss a beat and gets on his feet too, hands still up, pressing his chest forward into the gun with a smile on his face. Sal stands tall and strong, a few inches over him, big enough to scare anybody with a hint of common sense. But Vic doesn’t scare easy.

“If you take one single step I’ll break your neck,” he threatens calmly.

Sal’s face hardens as he tightens his grip on the gun, “I don’t think you wanna play this game, pal.”

“Oh, I wanna play,” Vic speaks slowly, “You wanna shoot me?” he points at his own chest with his hands, amused, “C'mon, tough cowboy, shoot me.”

“Vic…” Eddie starts speaking.

“Shut up Eddie,” Vic doesn’t need Eddie getting in the way, the whole fucking point of this is to get this guy away from him, “you, why don’t you pull the trigger if you’re such a tough boy, huh?”

“Vic, fucking stop it.” Eddie’s hurls through closed teeth; Vic can see his face starting to redden from the tension and anger bubbling up in him, but Sal still has an arm around his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

“Cmon.” Vic spurs again, speaking lower and pressing forward, and for a moment he thinks he might have to start throwing punches to get a reaction from the man, but Sal seems to be thinking better of it already; starts releasing the pressure from the gun, drawing it backwards slowly to place it in his hip holster again.

Vic grins, tilting his face up with arrogance, “That’s what I thought…”

The hand around Eddie’s shoulder relaxes, and Sal takes a slow step back as he squints, “I’ll be seeing you, _Vic_ …”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

The man walks backwards slowly, keeping his eyes on Vic until he disappears among the people of the bar.

Vic exhales slowly, distensing his body for the first time in a while. He isn’t sure what the hell just happened, but he knows two things: he wants to kill this Sal guy, and he is very, very pissed at Eddie. He turns to glare at him with eyes cold and angry; unlike himself, Eddie has not relaxed at all.

“Vic…”

“Now _who_ the fuck was that?“

"Vic, I can…”

“Let’s get out of here.” Vic starts circling the table toward Eddie as he gets a few crumpled bills from his pocket, throws them among the beer bottles without trying to count them, then he grabs Eddie by the arm and starts walking fast toward the door.

“Hey!” Eddie yanks his hand away hard, but still matches Vic’s walking pace. “I swear to fucking God, if someone else grabs me again tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” Vic turns to confront Eddie, crowding him, but he still speaks slowly “Is there someone else who’s gonna come take you for a dance, huh? Any other guys I oughta know about?” Vic chest feels like it’s on fire, and he thinks if Eddie gives him any more shit it might be his breaking point tonight.

But Eddie looks back at him like he’s gonna start shooting sparks out of his eyes any moment, “You know very damn well that’s not what I meant, you fucking nutcase,” he walks around Vic out the door and Vic follows behind.

Eddie crosses the parking lot in a few long paces and gets immediately in the passenger seat of the car, closing the door. Vic could get in the car, drive away and act as if that guy didn’t just threaten to kill him and got away with it; it’s probably the best thing he could do, considering he’s still on parole. But he doesn’t move toward the car’s door, instead, he approaches Eddie’s window and gives the glass a light tap. Eddie rolls his eyes as he rolls down the glass.

“What?!”

Vic perches himself on the window, points at Eddie with his finger, “Don’t move, I’ll be right back.”

“Have you ever heard the phrase ‘don’t bring a knife to a gunfight’, you moron?” Eddie’s squinting his eyes like he can’t believe Vic would be so stupid, but he doesn’t take offence, “Get back in the car!”

Vic is already standing up and walking toward the bar.

As soon as he gets in he starts scanning the place methodically, with a sharp look on his eyes as he walks along one wall so he never loses sight of the whole room; the guy is nowhere to be found. He makes his way to the bathrooms and inspects them too, with no luck. He closes a fist in frustration before walking back outside. When the chill night air hits him he takes a slow breath, brings his arms to his hips and gives the parking lot a glance, too; maybe the idiot is staying behind in his car waiting for Vic to break his face.

When Vic sees him he can’t believe his eyes. Sal is perching over Vic’s own Cadillac’s window, his hat hanging from his neck and thrown over his upper back, in the same posture Vic was not five minutes ago, speaking with Eddie and giving his back to the bar’s door. He might be big and good looking, Vic thinks, but the man sure ain’t the sharpest fella.

Vic approaches slowly from behind, stealthily, and when he’s close enough he brings his right hand back, taking impulse for a moment before swinging it forward with full force and an open palm towards Sal’s head; as soon as he comes in contact he grabs the hair and shoves him face first towards the car door. The knock of metal against forehead makes a loud thud.

“Shit!” Eddie pulls back, taken by surprise.

Vic uses the moment of confusion to take Sal’s gun from his holster, then stands back and throws it toward one end of the parking lot over the roofs of the cars; when he turns back around Sal’s already recovering, left fist up in front of his face while he swings the right. A cold punch lands on Vic’s jaw, another on his sternum. He stagers back for a moment, struggling to breath, but regains his balance quickly. He lets out a sigh and grins.

“So you can hit too, huh?”

He takes one step back to gain momentum, then throws himself with full force toward Sal’s waist, knocking him on his back with Vic on top of him. He scrambles up, grabs the man’s hair again and yanks upward, then back down, hitting the crown of his head against the hard pavement. He does it again. Sal grabs his shirt and pushes back, trying to get him off, but Vic’s got him pinned to the ground, resting his full weight on his ribs, the man almost unable to breath. Vic lets go of his hair and throws a punch to the eye, the jaw, the nose, starting to breath heavily himself. For the first time, he’s vaguely aware of Eddie’s amused howling and laughing through the car’s window.

“Heh, he sure didn’t see that comin’,” he taps the door of the car with a pleased grin, “Cmon, that’s enough, you’re gonna kill him.”

But Vic hasn’t had enough. He reaches for the razor in his boot, panting slightly from the strain of the fight, and opens it carefully, then brings the blade to the man’s face, resting it flat on his cheek. Sal’s face is smeared with blood from his nose and the open cuts in his brown and cheek, and he is gasping for air. Vic moves his face closer, his lips almost touching the other’s ear, and he whispers.

“If I ever see you again I’m gonna give your pretty face a fix-up,” he tilts his face sightly sideway to look him in the eye, “You want that, huh?”

Sal shakes his head faintly, keeping his eyes on Vic’s, but he doesn’t speak.

“Yeah, ’s what a thought.” He gives him a last grin and finally gets up, brushing one hand back through his messed up hair; with the other he closes the blade by pressing the blunt edge against one leg.

He walks around the car and gets in the driver’s seat, immediately puts in the key and starts the ignition, then maneuvers out of the parking lot without giving even one last glance to the man still lying on the pavement. Eddie’s giggling dies away as he sees Vic’s livid expression, and Vic’s glad because he doesn’t want Eddie to think for a moment that he’s off the hook.

“You have a lot of explainin’ to do.”

“Yeah, I guess I do, huh…”

As they drive back to the house Vic steals a glance to his right; even in the darkness of the road he can make out the younger man’s frown, his lower lip between his teeth. Vic wonders if Eddie missed him too.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. yes they did have hot angry sex later. 
> 
> 2\. also in case you read my tumblr posts where i detail my writing struggles, yes Rock Hudson was my reference for Sal
> 
> 3\. Songs in the fic:
> 
>  _Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain_ by Willie Nelson 
> 
> _I’ve Been A Long Time Leaving (But I’ll Be A Long Time Gone)_ by Waylon Jennings
> 
>  _The Chokin’ Kind_ by Waylon Jennings
> 
>  _Luckenbach, Texas (Back To The Basics Of Love)_ by Waylon Jennings & Willie Nelson
> 
> title of the fic comes _Psycho Killer_ by The Talking Heads
> 
> originally posted on [tumblr](https://louisewilder.tumblr.com/post/190513885157/so-heres-the-viceddie-nobody-asked-for)


End file.
